


We’ll Meet (Just as Before)

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2017 [25]
Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Brain Damage, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Torture, References to Torture, Romance, Strong Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: AU to Burial at Sea’s ending, because no. Elizabeth clings to life in the city under the sea until help arrives. Unapologetic Jack/Elizabeth.





	We’ll Meet (Just as Before)

[---]  
  
_The stars are so **bright.**_  
  
_Elizabeth lays on her back in the water and stares up at the multitude, the brilliant lights that pinpoint different worlds, different realities, and marvels at their beauty, their wonder._  
  
_This, she thinks, is not a bad place to be._  
  
_Here, with this beauty, this tranquility, this peace._  
  
_Even though she’s dead._  
  
_Because she is dead._  
  
_Elizabeth_ _is-_  
  
[---]  
  
**_SKREEEEEEEK._**  
  
**FOOM.**  
  
“ _Ho_ -ly-”  
  
[---]  
  
_Elizabeth_ _is not dead._  
  
[---]  
  
The heaviness was the first thing that concretely assured Elizabeth that she was still very much alive. Her body felt like someone had rolled her in wet cement and left her out to dry for too long; any hope of movement was shot. Even twitching took up an inordinate amount of energy that could be best funneled towards her attempts to stay awake.  
  
And alive.  
  
The second thing that eventually caught her notice was the fact that Elizabeth was not lying on the cold, rubble-strewn ground where Atlas had left her after beating the ever-loving Christ out of her. Her limbs were hanging, and the seat upon which she was sitting kept moving, adjusting, twisting-  
  
…Probably because it wasn’t a seat.  
  
Someone was carrying her.  
  
Opening her eyes took a Herculanean effort, and even then, Elizabeth wasn’t able to open them all the way. There wasn’t much light to be had, but what little there was burned as she tried to focus on the features of the face above hers.  
  
“Booker?” She rasped, deliriously thinking that it could be no one else.  
  
A face that was definitely not Booker’s looked down at her, surprised at first and then entirely concerned.  
  
“Don’t worry, Miss. I’m bringing you to the Medical Pavilion.”  
  
The voice was young, and the face was familiar. Had Elizabeth met this young man before? There was something strangely recognizable about him, and though it was probably unwise, she didn’t feel as anxious about his presence as she might have been with anyone else.  
  
_Do I know you?_ Elizabeth thought.  
  
Sandy hair, green eyes, this was a face she knew, a face she had seen before, somewhere, some time…  
  
_Yes._  
  
_Yes, I know who you are._  
  
Elizabeth smiled weakly. “I’ve seen you before,” She whispered, and without much conscious effort on her part, fingers that had been too heavy to wiggle a moment before reached up to brush his cheek.  
  
Again there was that surprise, then followed by a tender, whole-hearted sort of worry. “Take a rest, Miss. Atlas fu- Fontaine messed you up real bad.”  
  
“Ace,” Elizabeth babbled, remembering. “Ace in the hole. You’re the ace.”  
  
“Easy, you really need to-”  
  
**_CRASH._**  
  
The young man tensed, arms tightening around Elizabeth’s arms and legs reflexively. “Shit.”  
  
Clanking and clanging sounds echoed from far away, and the reason why this was troublesome, dangerous, tickled at Elizabeth’s mind tantalizingly, but she couldn’t quite make the connection into something tangible. “What? What?”  
  
“Splicers.”  
  
That word provoked an inexplicable sense of alarm in her, but she still couldn’t force it into something she could intellectually understand. The man moved quickly and quietly, and before Elizabeth could say anything to stop him, she was being set down on the ground, her shoulder and head coming to rest against something that didn’t feel like a wall.  
  
“Stay here,” The man whispered. “I have to take care of them, and I can’t use a gun if I’m carrying you.”  
  
“Don’t leave,” Elizabeth croaked. “Please, please don’t leave.”  
  
“I’ll come back,” The man assured, loading bullets into his gun. “I promise I’ll come back. I won’t go far, either, so just stay quiet and don’t move. I’ll come back.” And like that, one moment he was there, and the next he was gone.  
  
Elizabeth’s grip on consciousness was still shaky, and so despite the ringing of gunshots and screeching of angry Splicers, she slowly drifted back into darkness.  
  
[---]  
  
_Elizabeth_ _is with the stars again._  
  
_They’re so peaceful, so striking in their beauty. Everything is silent and still, and Elizabeth is content to float in the water as she did before, gazing at the sky and marveling at the tranquility of the endless, timeless scene._  
  
_Suddenly, she starts to sink below the water._  
  
_This is surprising, but not frightening, for it’s impossible to feel frightened when surrounded by such beauty. No terrible thing can happen in this place._  
  
_“Miss?”_  
  
_The word echoes dimly through the water, muffled and barely audible._  
  
_“Miss?”_  
  
_Now it’s a bit clearer. But she’s sinking, not rising- how can the voice be getting anything but fainter?_  
  
_“Miss?”_  
  
_It’s because Elizabeth is still not dead._  
  
_“Miss?”_  
  
[---]  
  
“Miss? Are you awake?”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes opened and focused a bit faster than they did before. The dim light was even dimmer now, and it didn’t hurt to take it in like it had before. There was a young man standing above her, and Elizabeth felt like her brain was pulling the puzzles pieces from the box and trying to fit them together at a snail’s pace, not quite fast enough to keep up with what was going on.  
  
“Good,” The man sighed. “You’re awake. I was worried, with the head injury and all. I think you have a concussion.” He winced a little. “You might have worse than a concussion.”  
  
“Who are you?” Elizabeth slurred, voice rusty from disuse and a brain that wasn’t as efficient as it had once been.  
  
“Name’s Jack,” The man said, motioning as though he was tipping a hat to her. “And you?”  
  
“Elizabeth.” Her head lolled to the left, and she grimaced at the pain the motion brought. The doors to the room had been barred shut with a steel pipe and a cabinet. She carefully turned to look back to Jack. “How bad is it?”  
  
“How bad is what?”  
  
“My…” Elizabeth’s fingers reached up to tentatively brush against the bandages wrapped around her head.  
  
“Not… I mean, aesthetically speaking? Not too bad- it’s mostly covered by your hair. Medically speaking…” Jack shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not a doctor. I couldn’t say for sure. I mean, you’re not dead and you can talk, so that’s a good sign.”  
  
All at once, Elizabeth suddenly, _vividly_ remembered why it was she had the head-injury in the first place.  
  
She recalled the spike of panic she’d felt when Atlas had raised the wrench, the explosion of pain in her head and fear in her heart when it had collided with her head. After that it was confusion, her brain frantically trying to recover its faculties so she could protect herself, but the wrench kept coming down. As it was, Elizabeth wasn’t sure how many times she’d been struck.  
  
_How am I not dead?_  
  
“Do you need another blanket?” Jack was frowning. “You’re shivering.”  
  
She was. Less because she was cold and more because her head was pounding with the memory of how she’d almost been bludgeoned to death. “No,” Elizabeth said, slowly. “No. Where did you find me?”  
  
Jack scratched his head. “Where _did_ I find you?” He thought for a moment. “I think… I think it was Apollo Square? Something around there, anyway. I had to go down there for- for some stuff, and I’m not sure if I was still there when I found you-”  
  
“ _Awww, well would you LOOK at this heart-warming **bullshit?**_ ”  
  
They both started, and Elizabeth lifted her head, squinting in confusion as she looked for the voice. It was coming from a radio on Jack’s hip, and it was more familiar than not, but her scrambled brains were having trouble piecing two and two together.  
  
Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ignore him.”  
  
“ _So what’s this, kid? You decided to get laid before you die? Shiiit Jacky, you’d have been better off rubbing one out to a dirty magazine in Fort Frolic- I bashed that bitch’s head in too well for her to look good enough for a fuck, even to the dirtiest, kinkiest freak in Rapture._ ”  
  
“Fontaine,” Elizabeth croaked. She hadn’t recognized it immediately because Fontaine had dropped the fake Irish accent he’d adopted for Atlas. “That’s Fontaine. God, he’s still alive?”  
  
“He’s like a cockroach. A really tenacious one.”  
  
“ _Hoo-boy, kid, you should be real grateful that Tenenbaum loosened the screws in your head, because if she hadn’t? I’d have you snapping that girl’s neck the way Suchong made you kill that puppy when you were a tyke._ ”  
  
Elizabeth shuddered as she recalled the recording she’d found in Suchong’s laboratory, remembering the gut-wrenching sobs of the boy who-  
  
The boy who…  
  
_Oh God._  
  
_That’s right._  
  
All at once, she came to the same conclusion she’d come to before, when she was half-awake in Jack’s arms: Jack was ‘The Ace in the Hole’. He was the one the phrase ‘Would You Kindly’ applied to; the phrase would turn him into a puppet for whoever gave the order.  
  
The same phrase that Elizabeth had handed to Fontaine and then translated for the sick bastard.  
  
“Fuck off, Fontaine,” Jack grunted, and his face was notably paler than before. The memory of the puppy-incident (if he remembered it at all) was probably significantly more traumatizing for him than it had been for Elizabeth. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”  
  
“ _Right- you’re doin’ it with **her** right now,_ ” Fontaine cackled. “ _Well, enjoy it you two, because I’m gonna make you both wish you’d never been born._ ”  
  
The radio crackled and then when silent.  
  
Elizabeth covered her eyes. “I’m sorry. Oh _God_ I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured her. “He’s been messing with me since I got here. He put on this fake accent and told me his name was Atlas, and he- I- It’s complicated. But you’ve got nothing to do with it.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Elizabeth whispered, keeping his eyes covered. “I gave him the code-phrase: ‘Would You Kindly?’” She remembered that moment with far more clarity than she would like. “I’m so sorry, Jack. He was going to kill one of the Little Sisters. He was going to do _worse_ than kill her. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Jack was silent for a moment, and Elizabeth felt herself breaking a little inside. Then he said, “It’s no big thing, Elizabeth. I got rid of the… Conditioning? Doctor Tenenbaum helped me get rid of it, so I’m not dangerous anymore.” A pause. “I mean, no more so than anyone else in this madhouse.”  
  
Finally, Elizabeth worked up the nerve to uncover her eyes. Jack had a sad half-smile on his face, and he shrugged lightly. “Besides, I can’t be mad at you: You’re the first person in this place who hasn’t pointed a gun at me apart from… Ryan.” Jack cringed, and his posture changed: His shoulders slouched inward, and he leaned away from Elizabeth like he was resisting the urge to curl in on himself.  
  
“You met Andrew Ryan,” Elizabeth remarked cautiously.  
  
“I _killed_ Andrew Ryan.” Jack sniffed, looked away. “He… He made me do it. Made me stand, sit, run, then made me bash him over the head with his own golf club.” He swallowed loudly, and Elizabeth had to force herself not to shut her eyes.  
  
“I’m so sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.”  
  
“I handed Fontaine the code-words. I _translated_ them for him.”  
  
“He would have gotten them eventually anyway. He was the one who funded Tenenbaum and Suchong to create me.”  
  
“I’m still sorry.”  
  
“And I’m still not blaming you for it.” They were quiet for a few minutes, with Jack’s posture slowly becoming less tense. “He wanted me to harvest the Little Sisters,” Jack muttered finally. “Atlas, Fontaine, whatever. He wanted me to harvest them for their ADAM. But he didn’t make me, at least, and Tenenbaum showed me how to remove their conditioning as well.”  
  
Elizabeth perked up, and for the first time, she smiled. “Really?”  
  
Jack responded with his own smile and nodded. “Really. I managed to get a bunch of them-"  
  
“ _He did_.”  
  
They both started again, but this time it wasn’t Fontaine on the radio: It was a woman’s voice, the accent German, and Elizabeth knew who it was, but her brain couldn’t drag the name out where she could see it.  
  
“Doctor Tenenbaum,” Jack sighed, relieved. “What do you need?”  
  
“ _Nothing urgent at the moment. When you are ready, go to Point Prometheus to assemble the parts for the Big Daddy- but for now, you may want to get some rest yourself before you do, if you can. Are you safe where you are?_ ”  
  
“Safe as we’re going to get outside of your place,” Jack responded, eyeing the door and the barricade he’d erected against it.  
  
“ _Then rest, Jack. When you’re ready, bring Miss Comstock to me; I’ll keep her with the little ones until Fontaine is dead_.”  
  
“Will do.” The radio crackled, then went silent. Jack looked to Elizabeth, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Elizabeth Comstock, huh?”  
  
Elizabeth hesitated, but then said, “It’s DeWitt, actually. Comstock’s a pseudonym.”  
  
“DeWitt’s good too. Do you know Tenenbaum?”  
  
“No,” Elizabeth said, watching as he brushed off one of the few usable gurneys in the room and dragged it over to the one he had her resting on. “But she’s probably heard of me. I sang for Sander Cohen for a while.”  
  
Jack’s jaw dropped, horror in his eyes as he climbed onto the gurney. “You _sang_ with that lunatic?”  
  
“I did,” Elizabeth chuckled hoarsely, mind fuzzily recalling snippets of her time with Cohen. “I did. He’s completely insane.”  
  
“Was,” Jack mumbled. “Uh… I was in his apartment, and there were these Splicers, and, uh… Well, Cohen isn’t gonna be singing any ballads anytime soon.”  
  
“That’s probably not as big of a tragedy as it could be.” Jack snorted and bit his lip as he tried not to smile. He settled onto the gurney, folding his arm under his head, and Elizabeth saw a flash of something on his right wrist. “What is that?”  
  
“What’s what?”  
  
“On your wrist?”  
  
Jack lifted his head and looked down at his wrist, then nodded, understanding. “Oh, right, this: It’s a tattoo.” He held out his wrist, and Elizabeth reached out with a hand to pull his towards her. The tattoo was small, black, unassuming but distinct: A small length of chain. “I think,” Jack said, “That it’s a reference to that whole ‘Great Chain’ thing that Ryan was talking about. But I don’t remember when I got it or who put it there.” He grimaced. “Or it could be a reference to the fact that I was made to be a mind-slave to a con-artist. Either way.”  
  
Elizabeth’s thumb pressed lightly into the tattoo, and she felt Jack shiver under the touch. “It can be whatever you want it to be,” She said, a little dazed as her brain tried to force her back into sleep. “It’s your tattoo, after all.”  
  
Jack smiled at her. “Get some sleep,” He said. “We should be safe in here. If anyone comes knocking, I have a hacked camera set up to go off outside.”  
  
Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by a ‘hacked’ camera, but Jack seemed to have survived well enough in Rapture so far- she felt she could trust him to keep them alive for the time being.  
  
She slept, and this time did not dream of the stars.  
   
[---]  
  
“Elizabeth,”  
  
Elizabeth’s body felt horrendously heavy, and her brain refused to switch into waking mode. She simply didn’t have the energy to move, more or less get up.  
  
“Elizabeth, we gotta go.”  
  
_No,_ she thought. _I can’t. Let me sleep._  
  
“You don’t have to walk. I’ve got a wheelchair.”  
  
Elizabeth processed enough of the words to know that she should at least _try_ to get up, but she could only manage a weak noise. Her head was pounding, and when she opened her eyes a crack, things were far blurrier than they ought to have been.  
  
“ _Jack_ ,” Tenenbaum’s voice came over the radio. “ _We do not have time for this. Put her in the wheelchair and bring her to Olympus Heights. Bring her before Fontaine…_ ”  
  
Abruptly, the darkness caught Elizabeth by the scruff of the neck and dragged her back down.  
  
[---]  
  
When she came to again, Elizabeth was moving.  
  
She was sitting, but still moving, and her mind caught up much faster this time: Jack had her in a wheelchair, and they were on their way to a Bathysphere that would take them to Olympus Heights.  
  
_Is it Jack?_  
  
Elizabeth was overtaken with a sudden, irrepressible fear that someone who wasn’t Jack was taking her somewhere. How did she know it wasn’t Fontaine carting her off somewhere? Maybe he was going throw her to a Big Daddy so it could finish her off this time, or to a group of Splicers that would rip her apart in a rage.  
  
“Jack,” Elizabeth croaked. “Jack!”  
  
“Elizabeth? You okay?” The chair came to a stop, and when Elizabeth opened her eyes she saw Jack kneeling beside her, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”  
  
She was overcome with relief, and Elizabeth slung a shaky arm around Jack’s neck and shoulders. _It’s Jack, not Fontaine,_ she thought deliriously. _It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere with Fontaine._ “It’s okay,” Elizabeth mumbled. “I’m sorry. I got confused. I didn’t know where you were.”  
  
Jack patted her back. “I’m right here, Elizabeth. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re in safe hands.” They parted, and Jack smiled at her reassuringly before straightening up and pushing the wheelchair again. “Don’t worry, we’re almost at the Bathysphere.”  
  
All at once, Elizabeth’s mind cleared enough that she realized exactly how strange she’d sounded a few seconds before. Of course it wasn’t Fontaine taking her anywhere- he would have just killed her where she stood (or sat, rather) if he found her. Jack wouldn’t just leave her lying around where Fontaine or a Splicer could get to her easily.  
  
Then came the embarrassment: In Columbia, Elizabeth may not have picked up a gun and started shooting people, but she had been good partner to Booker, keeping him supplied and making sure that she could defend herself well enough that he didn’t need to worry about her. Now she was broken and confused and almost without her senses and Jack had, graciously, assumed the role of her protector until she was safe.  
  
_He shouldn’t have to help me,_ Elizabeth thought, tears burning her eyes. _I should be able to look after myself._  
  
She now understood with a very deep, dark sort of clarity what her situation was: Elizabeth didn’t know how bad it was just yet, but she had sustained a very serious head-injury, and in this moment of clear-headedness she could comprehend that it was affecting her in some very frightening ways. One moment she was fine, the next she was ready to pass out; one minute she could recall almost everything since Fontaine had knocked her head in, and the next she couldn’t remember where she was and what she was doing.  
  
The unfortunate, terrifying truth of the matter was that if Jack had not found her and made it his business to look after her, Elizabeth would probably be dead right now.  
  
Slowly, without her even noticing, Elizabeth’s grip on her clarity began to slip, and she fell into a blurry haze.  
  
[---]  
  
They went down hallways.  
  
Fire flickered in shop windows, and Elizabeth heard a small, tinny voice crying, “ _Hot! Hot! Hot! Ouchie! It hurts! Ow!_ ”  
  
“Sally,” Elizabeth called, sitting up in the chair and trying to figure out where Sally’s voice was coming from. Maybe this time she could pull her out of the vent, apologize to her for that terrible idea, steaming her out of the vent had been a terrible, terrible decision, Comstock had been right, he’d been the one with the moral compass for once and _God_ what did that say about how far Elizabeth had sunk-?  
  
“ _Sally!_ ”  
  
“Shh, Elizabeth, shh, don’t scream, the Splicers will hear-”  
  
“It’s Sally! I have to get her out of the vents, she’s getting burned-”  
  
Elizabeth tried to stand, but a wrench crashed down on her head and her legs turned to jelly beneath her. She collapsed awkwardly onto Jack and the wheelchair, gasping in pain and fear, overcome with the thought that she and Sally were both about to die, seeing flashes of light and thinking it was the ice pick digging into her skull again. Warm arms encircled her, tried to calm her, and Elizabeth could do nothing to break away from it, weeping into a sweater-clad shoulder until the visions passed.  
  
“It’s okay, Elizabeth, we’re almost there. I promise we’re almost there.”  
  
[---]  
  
“She’s not well.”  
  
Elizabeth lifted her head, suddenly aware that Jack wasn’t hugging her anymore. Time had passed and she hadn’t even realized it.  
  
“Yes, this I can see. Her skull seems to be healing, but I cannot tell for sure how much damage has been done to the brain. I doubt there is any working equipment in Rapture that can tell us the extent of it.”  
  
“Miss Elizabeth?”  
  
Elizabeth blinked.  
  
“Miss Elizabeth?”  
  
She finally came to focus on a figure standing before her. A small, slight figure with long hair and a dirty dress and a doll clutched in her pale, skinny arms-  
  
“Sally,” Elizabeth choked, reaching out a hand.  
  
Sally took it, then clambered onto Elizabeth’s lap and leaned up to whisper in her ear. “Masha and Leda told me about Papa Suchong’s sleepy-tube,” She said. “They said it would make you better if we put you in there.”  
  
“Sleepy-tube?” Elizabeth murmured.  
  
“They’re referring to the Vita-Chamber.” Doctor Tenenbaum stepped into view. She was no less beautiful than the pictures of her had shown, but she looked significantly more harried now: Her hair was a mess, her clothing was torn, and there were deep bags under her eyes. “It was still in the experimental stages when Fontaine and his men attacked on New Year’s Eve. One of the Little Sisters or the Big Daddies must have brought you to it.” She gently removed Sally from Elizabeth’s lap, and then assisted Jack in helping Elizabeth onto a bed.  
  
Elizabeth struggled to maintain consciousness as Jack spoke, his hand coming to squeeze her own. “I have to go stop Fontaine, Elizabeth. I’m going to come back, I promise- I just have to stop him before he pulls anymore stunts.” He gave her hand another squeeze. “I’ll be back.”  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
“I have to help him,” Elizabeth said without thinking.  
  
“You’ve done enough, my dear,” Tenenbaum sighed, squeezing Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You’ve done more than enough. Rest now. You deserve _rest_.”  
  
[---]  
  
Elizabeth came out of another half-sleep to find Tenenbaum examining her.  
  
“You’ve taken quite the beating, my dear,” The scientist clucked.  
  
“It feels like it,” Elizabeth slurred, reaching up with clumsy hands to rub her eyes. “My mind is just… _Gone_.”  
  
“Your brain,” Tenenbaum said, chewing her lip as she considered Elizabeth, “is trying to fix itself. Until it does, you will have moments of confusion, memory loss, pain, all sorts of things.” She took a puff of her cigarette. “…The use of the plasmids probably has not helped matters in that respect. You are fortunate to have been put into the Vita Chamber, or you might not be alive right now. Or, perhaps, you would be a vegetable.”  
  
Elizabeth shuddered. “So… I’ll get better?”  
  
Tenenbaum shrugged, but it was an apologetic shrug. “I cannot say for sure, my dear. But you are young and strong, and the young and strong heal better than the old and weak.”  
  
Elizabeth slowly lifted herself onto her elbows, head pulsing with a low-level pain for the effort of it. “Where’s Jack?”  
  
“Off preparing to give Frank Fontaine a gigantic dose of _karma_ ,” The scientist snapped, lip curling in disgust. “I hope the bastard chokes.”  
  
But Elizabeth’s mind had hooked onto the subject of Jack, and it didn’t seem able to follow any other topics at the moment. “You know Jack.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“You’ve _known_ him,” Elizabeth corrected.  
  
Tenenbaum paused at that, taking a drag on her cigarette. “I have known him, yes. One could argue that I had a hand in creating him.”  
  
“Why is he doing all of this?” Elizabeth pressed. “Why is he fighting Fontaine? Why did he save the Little Sisters? Why did he save _me?_ ”  
  
Tenenbaum snorted. “He is a young man, and you are a pretty young woman, you do the math.” She paused, softening. “…But no, he is a good young man. Better than I could have hoped for, given the way we made him. I should be so lucky that he’s still found a way to be kind, to the Little Sisters and to you. Defeating Fontaine is a necessity, and unfortunately there are no others in Rapture at the moment fit for the job.”  
  
“Where is he now?”  
  
“In the Proving Grounds. He’s disguised himself as a Big Daddy, and one of the Little Sisters is guiding him to Fontaine’s lair.”  
  
There was no worse feeling than knowing that some great and terrible thing was coming, but having no way to fight it or prevent it. Elizabeth could not have helped Jack even if she could open a tear to his location that very second (another fun realization: Elizabeth would probably never open a tear again, unless she found a Lutece device lying around somewhere).  
  
“Is he alright?”  
  
“He’s fine, Elizabeth. He’ll be fine.”  
  
But Tenenbaum chewed her lip again, and Elizabeth was not convinced.  
  
[---]  
  
“Miss Elizabeth, wake up.”  
  
Elizabeth stirred, groaning. It was, perhaps, a good sign that she could actually recall choosing to surrender to sleep after her talk with Tenenbaum; maybe her memory was improving. In any case, she hadn’t seen a point in forcing herself to stay awake and fret over whether or not Jack was currently getting an ice pick wedged into his eye-socket, or taking a wrench to the side of his head.  
  
“Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Jack’s gonna take us up above the water.”  
  
“What?”  
  
There was noise in the background, tittering little voices all full of hushed excitement and wonder.  
  
It was almost as though her body had decided to go solo from her damaged mind. Elizabeth pushed herself up on shaky arms that, nonetheless, did support her enough that she could sit up all the way. She swayed in place for a moment, and as she got her bearings, she could hear Tenenbaum from nearby:  
  
“ _Mein Gott_ , this pheromone! I will never understand how the little ones can _like_ it. It’s positively repulsive.”  
  
“I don’t know, Tenenbaum, I think I’m starting to get used to it.”  
  
That was Jack’s voice- it sounded strange, but it was definitely his voice.  
  
Elizabeth’s vision steadied enough for her to risk standing. She turned, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and then applied pressure to her feet, her calves, her thighs, her hips- and lo and behold, she was standing, albeit with legs that felt like they might give out on her at any moment.  
  
_How am I doing this when I couldn’t before?_  
  
Maybe it wasn’t so much that her legs didn’t want to work so much as it was that the part of her brain that controlled them wasn’t functioning properly. In any case, standing was good, but could she actually walk? That required quite a bit more energy, strength, and coordination. Was she capable of that right now?  
  
Elizabeth slowly moved her foot. She was unsteady, but she moved carefully and managed a few steps. Then a few more, reaching out and bracing herself on things when she could. At one point, her hand found hair, and a small hand calmly took her own and gently pulled her in a particular direction. It occurred to Elizabeth that she had just started walking, but in no particular direction.  
  
She forced herself to focus, to concentrate, and her broken brain grudgingly complied, allowing her to see and process and understand where she was going and why she was going there. The Little Sister that had taken her hand was, indeed, leading her to Tenenbaum’s little office, where she was currently-  
  
What the hell was she doing with that Big Daddy?  
  
“Alright, one, two, three-”  
  
_POOMP._  
  
The helmet came off with a pop, and Jack’s head was revealed. His face was red and splotchy and sweaty, like he’d been under the helmet for far too long. Now Elizabeth remembered: He’d posed as a Big Daddy to get to Fontaine. “Boy, I am glad to have that thing off my head. It’s hot in there.”  
  
“Mama Tenenbaum,” The Little Sister chirped in greeting as she led Elizabeth into the room. Tenenbaum and Jack both looked up, and their eyes widened when they saw Elizabeth.  
  
“What are you doing? You should be in bed!” Tenenbaum scolded.  
  
“You’re not looking so good, Liz,” Jack said uneasily, and Elizabeth was strangely pleased at the nickname- nobody ever called her Liz, or Lizzie, or Liza. It was always Elizabeth, always the full name, always so formal.  
  
Elizabeth gave the Little Sister a pat on the head and reclaimed her hand, standing on her own. She steadied herself on the wall. “I’m okay,” She said, but the words felt strange and unreal coming out of her mouth. “I’m okay.”  
  
She took one step, stumbled, and fell face-first towards the ground.  
  
Jack’s arms swung out and caught her around the shoulders, pulling him towards the ground. Elizabeth managed to regain some semblance of balance and quickly pushed herself back up until they were balancing one another out. Jack chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I’m a bit punchy. Becoming a Big Daddy’s a real trip.”  
  
“You only had part of the procedure,” Tenenbaum remarked as she set the helmet down on the counter and kicked the boots under it. “Trust me; the _full_ experience is a trip you never want to take.”  
  
“Amen to that.” He looked Elizabeth up and down, smiling a little. “Good to see you walking, Elizabeth.”  
  
“You can call me Liz if you want,” Elizabeth blurted, maybe a little too pleased with how nice he looked with his hair mussed the way it was.  
  
“If you two are done,” Tenenbaum drawled pointedly, “I have not seen real sunlight in over ten years, and I would like to get out of this cursed city.” She pointed to the door. “As would they.”  
  
Elizabeth and Jack turned to the doorway, where most of the Little Sisters were watching them and giggling.  
  
[---]  
  
“You got family up above, Liz?”  
  
Elizabeth’s head was on Jack’s shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open at the question. “Yeah… Just not the ‘up above’ you’re thinking of.”  
  
Booker, Comstock, Lady Comstock, her real mother, Songbird- even the Luteces had disappeared. Elizabeth was, as far as she knew, completely and utterly on her own in this world. She couldn’t even escape to another one now if she wanted to, and that was maybe the worst realization of all of them. She’d been opening tears since she was a child, and it had at least given her a sense of freedom, an idea that she wasn’t alone.  
  
But now she was trapped in one world, one reality, with no parents, no siblings, no tower, no Songbird, no family.  
  
“I don’t either, if that makes you feel any better. I think pretty much everyone leaving Rapture today is an orphan.” Jack sighed, and Elizabeth felt his head brush against hers. “So I guess we’ll have to look after one another from now on. If we don’t have anyone else, then we can have each other.”  
  
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “The Little Sisters I can understand, sure,” She said, watching as the girls in their Bathysphere watched the water get brighter and brighter as they ascended to the top of the ocean. “But you sure you want to saddle up with me? Fontaine knocked a lot of nuts and bolts loose in my head. I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to put them all back where they’re supposed to go.”  
  
Jack snorted. “She said, without a hint of irony, to the guy who was brainwashed to follow any command given to him.”  
  
He and Elizabeth chuckled at that.  
  
And really, Elizabeth thought as sunlight became visible streaming through water outside the Bathysphere, that was a pretty good point: She might have some nuts and bolts loose, but Jack and the Little Sisters had just had their brains fried and rewired. They all had their struggles, and would continue to have them in the days to come; if anything, her loose nuts and bolts only made her fit in more with them.  
  
“It’s bright!” Sally squealed. “It’s so bright up here!”  
  
“Shiny! Shiny!” Masha chirped.  
  
“Where’s the _squids?_ ” Leda grumbled. “All the squids and the whales went bye-bye! They like the dark!”  
  
The Bathysphere finally breached the surface, and the girls gasped with surprise, covering their eyes against the sunlight that was coming in through the window. Elizabeth had to squint too, and she felt Jack turn his head to the side. “Yeesh, you spend a few days in the dark depths and you forget how painful sunlight can be,” He mumbled, shielding his eyes with a hand. “Alright girls, let me get at the door.”  
  
Elizabeth steadied herself as Jack stepped away, moving to the door of the Bathysphere and fiddling with the hatch until it slid open. He stepped outside onto the steps of the lighthouse that stood above Rapture, and held out a hand to help the girls out. They stepped out with such hesitation, the fresh smell of the sea air and the purity of the sunlight confusing and frightening them.  
  
She waited patiently as Masha and Sally and Leda and Alice stepped out into the world. Elizabeth lingered in the Bathysphere, in the moment before she too would be forced to leave the small, simple confines of the vessel and join Jack as the other Bathysphere with Tenenbaum and the other girls hit the surface as well. She knew nothing for certain of the world that she was walking into, nothing of the people, and no way to escape it if she didn’t like it, not like before.  
  
“Liz, you need a hand?”  
  
Elizabeth saw Jack standing in the door of the Bathysphere.  
  
And thank God, everything else might have been uncertain, but at least she wasn’t alone.  
  
Elizabeth took Jack’s extended hand and stepped into the light.  
   
-End


End file.
